


Soulmate

by Akaisha_Loire



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Anxiety, Depression, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-23 21:57:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8344324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akaisha_Loire/pseuds/Akaisha_Loire
Summary: Yuuri made a mistake the day he fell into bed with Victor Nikiforov, now his life was falling apart. How would his soulmate ever forgive him?





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a soulmate AU inspired by kaizuka's Unwritten! Which I highly recommend, as it's rather precious! I hope you guys all enjoy my own take on this AU.
> 
> Link to Kaizuka's Unwritten: http://archiveofourown.org/works/8293714/chapters/18997870

Guilt washed over him, pooling in his stomach like a lead weight. His heart beat a rhythmic cacophony of betrayal as the realization of his indiscretion hit him. How could he have done this? How could he give his body to someone who was not his soulmate?

Hazel eyes landed on the porcelain skin of Victor Nikiforov, marred by nail bites and teeth from the previous night of love making. It was all Yuuri’s doing, every mark, every bite, every bruise. They would remain as vivid reminders of Yuuri’s treachery. No matter how he tried to word it, describe it, he knew what he did. He knew what he was. Katsuki Yuuri, 23 years old, was an adulterer--no matter how he tried to rationalize it--who had done something disgustingly heinous.

With the haste of a rabbit who spotted a carrot field, he sprung from the bed, dressing to leave behind his sin. He ran, as if the biting chill could chase away this feeling of falling. Falling into an endless black hole of self hatred. Victor Nikiforov was a beautiful man--anyone with eyes could see as much--and just as charming. But Yuuri was smarter than this. To smart to have been thinking with his penis and not his head. To smart to be the fly caught with-in the spider’s web, drawn in by crystal blue eyes; dazzled by pretty words.

Yuuri fell into the snow, letting it bite at his skin in punishment for his actions. His tears fell unbidden down his cheeks as he brought his unmarked left hand to his face. He kissed the back, the palm, begging for forgiveness that would never come. He never wanted it to come. How could he tell the man who was tied to him? The man that was his soulmate. How could he tell his other half that he had allowed another man to take him?

He sobbed as the images of the previous night flooded through his mind, whisking him back to a whirlwind of pleasure that he had not only wanted but pleaded for. The words of affection that had flowed so freely, spoken to Victor when they should have remained reserved for someone else. Words that were spoken in honesty, adding to the growing weight in his stomach.

“Yuuri,” that voice called to him, the weight of a heavy winter coat falling over his shoulders. The wind as temporary blocked from biting at him, and Yuuri felt nothing but undeserving. 

This was all Yuuri’s fault. He had flown to Salt Lake City, Utah, moving further away from his mate--after promising he’d come back from Detroit--and closer to an actor who was only a personification of his desires. An actor he ended up in bed with after only knowing each other for a matter of short months. Months in comparison to the years that he had spent getting to know his mate on the other side of his thread. “I have a mate,” he sobbed. “I have a mate and we--”

“I have one too,” admitted Victor, wrapping his arms around Yuuri, helping him stand upon quaking legs. Yuuri prayed to all who would listen for the ground to open up and take him away from this hell. “I’ve known them since I was nine years old, in that time, we’ve never met. But, you, Yuuri, in just these short months, you--”

“Please, don’t,” he pleaded, trying to shy away as Victor led them to a bench. Yuuri tried to push away, to put distance between them, so as not to be ensnared by his emotions once again. “I love them! I love them! I don’t love you!” he shouted through his tears, trying to make Victor understand that what he said wasn’t real; despite what his heart was telling him.

Victor wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close, allowing Yuuri to sob into his coat.

*

They learn about it one day when Yuuri is five. Between learning colors and numbers, their teacher stops, and tells them about the ‘red string of fate’ that binds them all to one special someone. She says there’s an invisible red thread, wrapped about their pinky, a thread that is wrapped around someone else’s pinky too, connecting them. Because of the string, they have a special connection that no other person has, and as such they can write, doodle, or scribble on their hand and the string will deliver the message to their soulmate. There’s a thrum of excitement as markers were passed around as she encourages them to draw on their arm or hand, and see what happens. If their soulmate is there, they could answer, or they may be too young to answer, or not even born yet.

Yuuri didn’t know what was scarier. Not getting an answer? Or actually getting an answer and knowing his string was already tied somewhere? Either way, their teacher encouraged them to color on their skin, which most kids jumped at doing, diving into colorful markers to doodle out weird little odds and ends. A girl next to Yuuri was drawing Hello Kitty, delighting in it with her friend as they giggled. Yuuri looked at the markers, a itch of terror crawling at him as he picked a brown marker, drawing out a puppy, what was meant to be a poodle. He hurriedly drew in eyes with black and added a pink nose before tilting his head at his drawing. It was a bit chaotic. A lot of swirls for curls making it hard to tell if it had ears or not. This would be his first impression to his mate, if he had one. He was horribly embarrassed at himself. It was one thing to present this as a drawing to his parents. They would delight in it, commend him, and hanging it to view from time to time. His mate could laugh at him, question what was it. The anxiety made him lick his hand to clean it away, hoping they never saw it.

“Teacher, look!!” one of the girls yelled waving her hand in the air. Their teacher rushed over, looking at the girl’s hand, smiling as she helped her read what was there; temporarily distracting Yuuri. Quickly, he got back on track, rewetting his hand with the intention of scrubbing off the marker.

Yuuri looked back at his drawing, blinking in surprise when a pink bow appeared on his puppy's head. Soon after, what looked like a flower appeared below the puppy. One flower, kind of like a rose his mom got on her birthday. It was pink, like the bow a top the puppy's head and below it letters appeared, letters he’d never seen before. Granted, he was still learning to read, but his teacher always said he was smart and reading well for his age. “What's the matter, Yuuri?” his teacher asked--coming over to him--clearly having noticed his look of distress. Наречие was written below the flower.

“What's it say?”

“Well, I’m not sure,” she answered honestly, not wanting to get his hopes up with a lie. Picking up a paper, she wrote the letters, handing it to him. “At lunch you can see Yoshino-sensei, he’s very good at languages.”

That afternoon, Yuuri learned three things. One, that his soulmate was apparently Russian or spoke the language. Two, that his soulmate was older than him. Three, that they’d been waiting for this moment.

“It says, “at last”, it seems they've been waiting for you.”

*-*-*-*

Yuuri sat in his room, the palpitations finally slowing as he tried to keep his eyes open. He was exhausted, wanting to rest, yet afraid to see the images of his affair. What was worse was that he wanted it to happen again. Just moments ago, on that bench, snow starting to float down from the heavens as he sat besides Victor. How quickly the spider grew in size, slowly weaving its web, disguised as a thumb running over Yuuri’s lip. Ever the ignorant fly, Yuuri flew into the web, meeting Victor halfway for a kiss he shouldn’t have accepted.

It was slippery from Yuuri’s tears. A sliding trembling mess of emotions with nothing but Victor’s body to ground him. In that small moment, he felt as if the sun had risen, shining heated light down on them. Yuuri felt like he was gliding across the ice, under a single spot with the entirety of the world watching him. He felt like a bird in flight, soaring through open air with nothing but horizon ahead. He felt alive kissing Victor, and he shouldn’t have.

That’s why he ran away. That’s why he sat in his own room, curled into a fetal position, head between his knees as his world shattered around him. This--whatever it was--was not meant to be like this. Yuuri had a soulmate, somewhere in Russia was a man that loved him. Yet he threw it all away for a fling with an actor. An actor who made his heart skip a beat with his smile. An actor who put his all into a role, asking Yuuri for pointers when he refused to allow a double skate his role. An actor who made Yuuri feel like the center of his universe, even in a crowded room. Victor Nikiforov was an actor whose electromagnetism had led to an earth moving kiss. So earth moving, that Yuuri wasn’t surprised to hear about a small earthquake that coincided with the time of their first kiss.

He was perfect, but he wasn’t Yuuri’s. Victor belonged to someone else, and so did Yuuri. So did Yuuri.

Slowly, he raised his head from his knees, reaching for a pen from his bedside table. With trembling fingers he clicked the ballpoint out, poising it over his left hand. He sniffled, nudging his glasses up the bridge of his nose before writing out a quivering apologize; his tears smudging the ink as he did. He shoved his hand into his lap, refusing to see the inquisition sure to come. Afraid of the explanation he’d have to give of his sexual exploits. 

Then, there was a chance his mate would never see it, he could still erase it. He pulled his hand from his lap, rubbing at his eyes as he looked for anything to erase the apology. Only, he was too late, and there was a message just under his own; a message that stopped his heart.

 

I love you, but I need to tell you something.

*-*-*-*

Yuuri had learned his mate was 4 years older than himself, which was relief because he feared them being much older. He had been seven when he got the nerve to ask. Yoshino-sensei had suggested Yuuri look into simple English words in hopes Yuuri’s mate understood. The intention had been to draw seven coins, which ended up looking like yellow chicken pox on his palm. Pox or not, he colored them in till they were large, circling them in black. Cautiously he wrote out the word ‘age’ in English like his teacher taught him. It took a moment for a response to arrive but it did in the form of 11 purple colored dots to indicate his soulmate’s age.

Since then they had communicated in picture. Yuuri assumed his soulmate liked dogs too, as they both spent a lot of time doodling dogs back and forth. His soulmate’s dogs looked better drawn than Yuuri’s, admittedly, but it was something they had in common. They seemed to favor poodles, like Yuuri. Sometimes they drew dalmatians which always made Yuuri laugh with how his arm always ended up covered in spots. Other times it was huskys with ears to pointy, reminding Yuuri of cats. He had learned that his mate wasn’t too fond of cats when they drew one out only to cover it with a nice big red ‘X’.

One day, he woke up with his arm covered in white and blue snowflakes, earning a chuckle of amusement from his parents. His mother thought it was endearing how Yuuri and his mate communicated. They knew, of course, that Yuuri’s mate was Russian, and that they’re 11 years old. “Are you learning Russian?” his mother asked. Yuuri had shook his head to the negative.

“Are you teaching them Japanese?” was his father inquiry, only to receive another head shake. He received a firm chastising from his parents about how he should make an effort to communicate with his future spouse. Yuuri urged them not to get ahead of themselves, he was only seven, and not thinking about marriage. His parents laughed, leaving Yuuri to feel like he missed a joke.

 

*-*-*-*

Yuuri shook as he dialed the phone number across his hand, messing up thrice before he closed his phone and tried again. Once it did begin to ring he lost nerve and ended the call. He knew, logically, they needed to talk. But never in the 18 years that they’ve known each other had they talked. How could the first time they talked be like this? How could Yuuri let it end so horribly before it began?

He shuddered with more unshed tears, holding his phone to his heart, steeling his nerves. Hesitantly, he opened his phone, typing in the number once again. His finger hit send, allowing the phone to dial out to his soulmate since birth. However, he couldn’t find the courage to put the phone to his ear, not until he heard a man’s voice say, “Hello.”

Trembling, he fumbled with his phone, almost dropping it as he brought it to his ears. “It’s you,” was the first thing out of his mouth, before he palmed his own head in disbelief. Heart, please keep beating, he pleaded. “I-I mean, hello,” he stuttered out, looking around for anything to focus on. “Hi.”

“Wow, your voice is different than I was expecting. Softer,” his mate said, his accent thick with an accent.

“Yours is warm,” he answered, blushing in embarrassment. In his mind’s eye he saw someone strike a match, and he was the moth flying right towards it. This man was who he should be pursuing, not Victor Nikiforov. He knew this man on the phone, even if he didn’t know his name beyond the letter ‘V’. “You wanted to talk?” Yuuri segued, wanting to know what the ‘but’ in his message meant before Yuuri confessed to his sins.

“I...well, you know I love you. I waited years to see a message from you, and when I did, that first day, I was never happier. Do you remember that? The first thing you sent me?”

He flushed, falling back on his pillow, wanting to hide. “A puppy. I was going to erase it. It was bad.”

“It was precious to me. You were precious to me. You still are, and I’ve held out every day waiting for you. I wanted to marry you, love you, take you to Saint Petersburg, and Moscow, and everywhere in between. I wanted you to show me all of Japan. I wanted to go to the beach with you, where we could make love in the sand. We’d have children together--at least two--a boy and a girl and--”

“I HAD SEX WITH SOMEONE ELSE!” Yuuri blurted out through the tears streaming down his face as he sniffled. His mate had come up with an entire life for them. Had planned a marriage. Not just a wedding but a marriage. Where they had a family with two children where they would travel the world together as a family.

The silence was louder than anything Yuuri had heard in his life; even louder than the jet engine of a plane. His mate hadn’t hung up, as he could still hear him breathing quite clearly. Perhaps he was coming up with someway to curse him. Yuuri wasn’t horribly familiar with Russian superstitions, but he was sure they had to be something particularly nasty for liars like him.

“Mishka, I’ve fallen in love with someone else.”

The lead became to heavy, forcing Yuuri’s stomach to plummet from his body.

 

*-*-*-*

When Yuuri is 10 he becomes enamored with Russian born actor/dancer Victor Nikiforov. While Victor had been in movies for sometime in Russia, he broke onto the international scene with a Disney movie about a deaf Russian dancer who communicates through his dance. Both, he and Yuko, had found it kind of corny the first time they watched it. The dancing was great, but the story was the kind to try and make you cry. Despite that they both ended up watching the movie more times than they could count. Yuko even found Yuuri a poster of Victor in Tokyo when she went with family. He put it on his wall opposite his bed, not because he wanted to stare, just because it was beautiful. He thought of his soulmate and wondered if they watched Disney too.

It was such a comforting thing to have a soulmate. Somewhere to talk to. Somewhere to think of as he slept at night. The only problem was, they still didn't speak the same language. Yuuri had thought more than once how to approach the situation. Yoshino-sensei was always an option, just, Yuuri would feel bad asking for sentence translations. Japanese was an option, until he thought of his confusion when the occasional Russian word showed up on his hand. His soulmate would be just as confused and Yuuri didn't like the idea of confusing them.

When faced with a conundrum, Yuuri skates. One of the advantage of living near an ice rink is unlimited free time to skate, and he had been taking lessons with Yuko since he was younger. Takeshi, Yuko’s soulmate, always gave him a hard time, calling him a fatso and picking him on. So much so that Yuko threatened to never marry him if he didn’t shape up. The three of them spent most of their time on the rink, and Yuko thought Yuuri had a shot at being a pro-skater if he wanted to be. Not that he was naturally gifted, he just liked skating when he needed an activity to clear his head. On the rink is where he met Yuko. On the rink is where they changed Victor’s dance routines from the movie into figure skating routines. Sure, they fell a lot, and Yuuri’s butt hurt a lot from the cold sting of ice. But they had fun, and it was some of the happiest moments of his short 10 years.

It’s on the rink that Yuuri is struck with a brilliant idea. He runs home--after putting away his skates--digs out his markers, and plops down on his bed. With the black he draws a box before coloring in a line of red on the bottom and then a line of blue on top of it. Afterwhich, he draws a little arrow with the English word ‘you’ next to it. His English wasn’t great, in fact, it was really slow going, but he had picked up words he could use to communicate.

The flag seemed to sit there for an eternity before a y-e-s, appeared. Yuuri knew that word--it was ‘yes’--so they were Russian, not that he didn’t already know that. Quickly, he grabbed the black again, drawing another rectangle before grabbing the red, coloring in a red dot. He drew another arrow and wrote the letter ‘I’, as in, this was him. His teeth worried at his lips, wondering if that was clear enough. His anxiety mounting with each tick of the clock on his desk. What seemed to be thirty ticks went by, followed by another thirty, upon another thirty. Would his soulmate understand he was Japanese? Understand the message he was trying to get across? Or was the distance to great for them? Would this be the end?

日本??

Hazel eyes grew wide at the sloppy kanji that appeared below the flag of Japan. His teacher would comment that the strokes were messy, maybe even out of order. That didn’t matter to Yuuri. What mattered was did his soulmate know Japanese? Or did he look up the words to ask the question of Yuuri’s country? Yuuri quickly wrote back a YES!! in response, smiling over the fact that they now knew where the other was; the country, at least.

English? Appeared across his hand next. Yuuri looked to his ceiling, finding it funny that neither one of them had asked before if they knew English. It was either assumed they didn’t or…

He contemplated. He was still study, the countless number of workbooks scattered across his desk was evidence to that. But English had a lot of rules, and Yuuri often time found himself so confused on how to say things in English. There always seemed to be words he had to add to make any sentence make sense, which only served to confuse him further. Even now the word he needed was on the tip of his tongue. Naturally, he knew the word in Japanese but wasn’t sure how to write it in English; pretty sure there was more than one way to say it, as well. There was a dictionary somewhere in his room, but he felt a bolt of excitement stirring in his stomach at this bit of communication that wasn’t just messily drawn pictures. Butterflies hatching from carefully crafted cocoons, ready to fly free from his heart.

Small? Yuuri tried, scribbling the word in carefully--though a bit frenzied--in case he had used the wrong word.

His mate took a minute--more ticks of the clock signified the achingly slow passage of time--but when they did reply, Yuuri about fell off his bed as he saw hiragana appear across his hand, followed by an arrow.

すこし ←Japanese?

немно́го ←Russian

With feather light grace, Yuuri traced over the words, looking at them as if they were something extraordinarily beautiful. Somewhere, in Russia, his mate took the time to look up Japanese to counter his messy English. Not only that, they were sharing their own language with him. Yuuri placed a kiss to his hand, blushing as he realized what he was doing. This felt like closeness though. He was learning something, speaking with his soulmate who was trying to learn to speak with him. Maybe, just maybe, the red string was real, because Yuuri could feel himself developing a crush just thinking about the hand that wrote those words.

*-*-*-*

 

Yuuri stared at the art on the wall, looking at the ridiculous farmhouse painting in the middle of an open field. He wondered if those kind of places existed in America. If there was one close that he could lock himself into, and never come out again. The weight in his stomach had left, to fall on his heart, squeezing his chest in tight iron melancholia. He didn’t want to move, eat, or even perform. There was a power above that had granted them a rest from filming so Victor could perfect his skating for the next action shots.

All the time Yuuri had spent imaging his mate, he never thought it end like this. Even when he had made the mistake of having feelings for Victor, sleeping with Victor. In his mind, he imagined being yelled out, berated like a child for being so naive. They would argue, of course, and Yuuri would fight back that he hadn’t expected his mate to remain a virgin till they married. It would be the first of many arguments they were sure to have, and he was prepared for it. At least, that’s what he told himself regularly. There was still that tingling in his brain, that voice of anxiety that was already ready to pipe in. What if it’s not? What if he hates you?

He should have listened to his brain. He should have listened because now his soulmate was in love with someone else. Someone that wasn’t Yuuri. And Victor? Victor had a mate out there too. Someone that was worthy of Victor’s love. Someone who wasn’t just a stunt ice skater hired because of similar looks to their co-lead. Yuuri had been so stupid!

He rolled over, looking at his hotel window, finding the idea of throwing himself out of it a rather enchanting thought. Especially when all he could picture was Victor marrying some Russian beauty, who would be his soulmate in every way. Yuuri’s soulmate would marry whoever it was he had found, that had torn him from his soulmate. And Yuuri? Yuuri would be alone. Alone, just like when Vicchan died. Nobody wanted him. Nobody needed him.

He hated seeing, I still love you, written in bold across his hand, wishing his stupid mate would erase it. Yuuri knew he was a horrible person for what he’d done, now he had nothing. He was nothing.

“Yuuri!! I’m done practicing for today! Let’s go hang out!” Victor shouted from beyond Yuuri’s hotel door. Yuuri didn’t move from his bed, curling deeper into the blankets, refusing to let the outside world acknowledge his existence. “Yuuri? Would you open the door please?”

Go away, he pleaded, hugging the comforters tighter to himself. Burying himself deeper and deeper into the darkness till it mirrored the shadow of his heart. 

“Yuuri, this isn’t funny. Please, open the door.”

Stop pretending you care! No one cares! the voice in his head shouted. His logical part of his brain was holding on by a thread, telling him to face this head on. Victor was trying to be nice to him. Trying to act as if nothing had changed. Just as quickly as logical rationalized everything, three other voices piped in reminding him that he was a slut. A whore who had jumped into bed with someone he idolized since childhood simply because he offered. They reminded him that his own soulmate had chosen someone different, even before their knew what Yuuri had done. He wasn’t good enough for anyone. He wasn’t good enough for Vicchan who had died to get away from him. He was no one.

The door beeped, signaling the use of a key card, making Yuuri’s breath hitch with panic as the door opened. “Yuuri, why is it dark in here? What’s going on?” Victor asked, flipping the switch by the door, illuminating the area closest to Yuuri. “Yuuri?”

“Go away!” he said firmly, making sure he sound more forceful than whimpering.

“Yuuri, what’s wrong? Are you still upset about what happened between us?”

Yuuri sniffled, rubbing his nose in the sheets, forgetting the maids who would later clean his snot. He didn’t want to talk to Victor right now. He didn’t want to talk to anyone. He just wanted to be alone.

“Talk to me? Before that, we were friends, right?”

He didn’t answer, focusing on the hum of the air conditioner as it circulated. Victor’s breathing was even, unlike Yuuri’s own which was broken with the occasional hiccough. Victor moved, a light coming on, breaking through the protective shield of Yuuri’s blankets. Water filled the empty space as Victor filled the tub. For a brief moment Yuuri peeked over the blankets and that was all it took for Victor to sweep in and scoop him up bridal style. 

Yuuri protested, struggling to get away as the blankets worked against him, wrapping him in a vice grip. Victor offered him an apologetic smile before placing him down on the toilet to unwrap him. “This tub may not be as big as tubs in Japan, but it has jets,” Victor smiled, looking over Yuuri, ice blue eyes piercing through his thin layer of falsified calm. “Lift,” he said as he lifted Yuuri’s t-shirt over his head, tossing it aside with the three layers of sheets he had peeled off. “Care to talk?” he offered, helping Yuuri to stand so he could remove his boxers. While the act would have normally be seen as intimate, Yuuri felt more akin to a child being cared for by a brother. Victor led him over to the tub, helping him step carefully into the hot water, till he relaxed against the back.

“My mate doesn’t love me,” Yuuri mumbled in Japanese, banking on Victor’s minimal ability with the language.

“What?!”

Just his luck, Victor seemed to catch the gist. “He told me, he met someone else and is going to have a future with them,” he clarified in English. “Even if he left this note for me,” he mumbled, holding up his hand only to see that the words had disappeared, just like his mate. The tears came immediately afterwards, bubbling out of his chest in broken sobs. He pulled his knees to his chest, burying his face against them, wishing the water would rise high enough to drown him to stop the endless needling to his heart.

“Yuuri! You should have called me! People had died from being rejected by their soulmate! Do you know how high suicide rates are--”

Yuuri gasped as Victor’s fingers dug into his shoulder, pulling him harshly to face him.

“Yuuri, why were you alone in here?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he mumbled, avoiding eye contact as he looked at the water. The idea of drowning, while wonderful, seemed only to slow.

“It matters! Look at me! Yuuri!” he shouted, his accent become slightly thicker with urgency. Slowly, Yuuri turned his gaze to Victor’s, allowing his eyes to meet the crystalline gaze. “You’re so important to so many people! Remember how you told me about Yuuko, back in Japan? And Takeshi? Their triplets? What about your dance teacher? Your parents? Your sister? Everyone supporting you? What about me? What about the friends you’ve made here?”

“What about you?! We had sex! It didn’t even matter because my soulmate was off falling in love with someone else and you? YOU will find your soulmate and you’ll be happy and I’ll have no one. I’ll be the only person in all of Japan who wasn’t good enough for their soulmate! I’d rather be dead!”

He would remember the sting of Victor’s hand across his cheek for the rest of his life; no matter how long that might be.

 

*-*-*-*

 

When Yuuri was 15 he finally decided to breach a subject he and his mate had not discussed in all of 10 years of communication; their genders. It wasn’t a particularly significant thing to him, but Yuko, Takeshi, even his big sister, Mari, were all asking if he knew if his soulmate was a boy or a girl. What he did know was that they got along wonderfully. As they both learned more English they talked more and more. Yuuri’s sentence structure wasn’t great, but he was learning, given that he was looking at a skating facility in Detroit, or rather they were looking to scout him. In five years, he had climbed the ranks of Japanese male skaters, winning several competitions, and medaling in just as many. They were Olympic level competitions, or anything of the caliber, but they were experience that Yuuri valued.

He had been taking the train back to Narita when he had decided to breach the subject.

 

Boy or Girl?  
女? 男?

He wrote out, waiting anxiously for an answer as the overhead announcer called out the stops. Yuuri had yet to pin the exact time difference between he and his mate. He assumed different areas of Russia had differing time zones, and with his frequent travel later, it was hard to pin down a time. It didn’t seem to matter to his mate, as the person always seemed ready to answer him any time he wrote. Today was no different.

A circle appeared around ‘otoko’ followed by a series of Russian letters that Yuuri assumed to be further confirmation.

Мужчина.  
You? 

Male. His soulmate was male, and roughly 19 years old now. Sticking out his tongue just slightly, Yuuri attempted to copy the letters that his soulmate had written out, loving the thrill of replying in his mate’s own language. 

Мужчина.  
Is this okay?

Yuuri smiled as his mate replied with a simple ‘yes’ in return, followed by a large smile face. His heart gave a thump at his mate’s approval of his gender. The fact that it didn’t matter to either one of them. The next step would be their names, but Yuuri finds he’ll never be ready to tell this person who he really is. Who wants to know boring old Katsuki Yuuri?

 

*-*-*-*

“You’re right,” Victor whispered, stroking Yuuri’s hair. Yuuri snuggled closer to Victor, ignoring the cotton of the towel to focus on the scent of the man holding him. He felt calmer than he had in days, almost reaching a serene like trance in this man’s arms. Yuuri had heard that soulmates could have that effect on each other, but what about people you had sex with? Or had Yuuri reached the precipice of depression that he was imagining the placating presence? Was he this desperate for someone to want him? “We shouldn’t have had sex. I don’t regret it, but, we should have put more discussion into it. WE should have talked to our soulmates first.”

“Maybe he wouldn’t have left me if I hadn’t had sex with you…” Yuuri mumbled, eyes glued to the nightstand clock whose numbers blinked green. 

“Yuuri, you’re trying to make this your fault, but it’s not. He didn’t just fall in love with this person over night, nor did he fall in love the moment we fell into bed together. It probably happened over time, long before we even happened.”

“Thanks, that makes me feel better,” he muttered, making a move to push Victor away.

Victor grabbed his wrist, pulling him close again, proceeding to rock him like a mother coddling her young. Once again, Yuuri was bit by the distinct sensation of a brother, soothing his young sibling. A mother dog, bathing her pups before putting them to bed against her fur. He was nothing but a novelty to Victor. “I had a similar conversation with my own mate. He’s male too, you know? I told him how I had...someone important in my life and he mentioned he had slept with someone. I wasn’t mad when he told me, I was actually kind of elated. I’ve heard soulmates could develop friendships. Love each other like family, support each other, even if it’s not romantic. When I told him how I felt, and he told me about his escapade, it felt like we could love who we wanted without this obligation hanging over us.”

“Well, good for you,” he bit out. Envy grew inside him, like a venomous snake ready to bite. Victor had a friend in his mate, while Yuuri’s just dumped him? Left him to traipse around Russia with someone else’s intended without so much as a goodbye to Yuuri. Thanks for the past 23 years but you’re not what I wanted, was what he got.

“That means, Yuuri, if you’ll give me the chance--”

“Give you a chance?”

“Date me,” Victor said simply, reaching up to run his fingers through Yuuri’s still drying hair. Yuuri’s heart became a stampeded in his ear, blocking all sounds but the pattering of hooves against the savannah. “The person I told my mate about is you, Yuuri. I’m falling for you, and would like it very much if you gave me a chance.”

Yuuri was sure his heart lay somewhere in the vicinity of the floor, along with his stomach.

 

*-*-*-*

Yuuri gets a summer job to help pay for his move to Detroit. Yuuko is thrilled that he’s decided to pursue skating in a more serious manner. Though, that means leaving behind Japan for one of the top coaches in the US. He promises he won’t be there forever, but the weight of the decisions hangs on him every day. He loves skating, truly, but moving to the United States means living in a country with no friends, no family, and no Vicchan. His dog was precious to him, even when he was feeling alone he always had Vicchan to come and love him. He had asked to bring him to Detroit, unfortunately, his host family had their own dogs, and really couldn’t accommodate another. Or well, the mother of the family was more than thrilled at the idea, claiming ‘the more the merrier’. While the father had said they had far too many pets to contend with another. Yuuri had a feeling they had that conversation a lot, and politely told them that he would leave Vicchan here in Japan.

It would be like his mate, who he had only ever talked to through his hand. They hadn’t phoned, or skyped, or anything of the nature, afraid of ruining the mystery that was their relationship. His mate told him: “The first time I see you, I want to hug you. I can’t do that through a computer.”

Even though they couldn't be together, his mate made him feel loved with every ‘otsukare’ that came across his hand. He returned in kind with ‘good morning’ and ‘good evening’, extending every kindness to the other man. Every day his heart expanded, growing with love for the man. And while he knew it was cliche, he sometimes liked to picture them under a cherry tree. The petals would be in full bloom, blowing in the wind, whipping up a whirlwind of aesthetic. Sometimes he picture Victor Nikiforov as his mate, likely due to numerous posters of him. And in those dreams Victor looked fantastic coated in the pink of the petals, his long hair blowing in the wind. He’d tuck it behind his ear, offer Yuuri the softest of smiles, telling him he loved him.

Of course, it was nothing more than fantasy fueled by one to many of Victor’s movies. He had cut his hair, even, so the dream wasn’t accurate. Yuuri was like so many others who watched the young star, drawn in by his charisma and charm. Drawn in by the love he showered on his beloved dog who appeared in every magazine with Victor. 

Victor was his ideal, but not his reality. His reality was in Russia, waiting for Yuuri to settle in his career. Ever patient, waiting for the love they would build together.

*-*-*-*

He was happier since he officially started dating Victor. Happier, but that thin blanket of depression still hung over him. Every day he looked at his blank hand he thought of the soulmate he’d lost and wondered if it would ever stop hurting. Victor seemed to understand, showering Yuuri with patience. Offering him affection, and an ear when Yuuri called upon him.

Yuuri threw himself into his work, focusing on the choreography he had to learn. They had already informed him that he’d skate the routine roughly four times, so they had the shots to splice together with their lead. Victor would be present for the morning shoot, as would the female lead, Hannah. In the afternoon the two would leave to film a romance sequence out on a mountain path. 

In this particular sequence Yuuri was told to ‘radiate sexual desire.’ He was to be the playboy, using his skates to seduce Hannah’s character away from Victor. Only, it was just his body that was doing the moves, all the actual facials and arm movements would come from the lead, Jon. It would be up to him to match his body to Yuuri’s.

“You look stiff,” Victor commented in jest, entering the dance studio. “I know you understand lust.”

“I'm just not feeling it right now,” he confessed, watching Victor in the mirror as he placed his bag down. He closed the space between them with three large strides, wrapping his arms around Yuuri’s waist, pulling him close. A bucket of water disguised as calm flooded over his head, his body folding instinctively to Victor’s protection. Victor led him off the floor, leading him to a wall so they could rest.

Yuuri sank down, back acting as a duster against the wood as he slid down. Victor sat next to, reaching for his hand, threading their fingers. “I like you, Victor.”

“I like you, too. A lot, actually.”

Yuuri offered a half smile, giving Victor’s hand a small squeeze. This is how it was supposed to be with his mate. He was meant to feel comfortable, loved. He was meant to feel a gossamer of love, wrapping him in feather like softness. Victor was fantastic, amazing, and Yuuri had feelings for him, but--

“You can’t forget him, can you?”

“I'm trying,” he confessed. “It’s just, been so long and it hurts so much. It feels like a part of me has died. You don't feel anything like that at all?”

Victor sighed, running his free hand through his hair. “Sometimes. Sometimes I feel this unbearable heartbreak, and I try to smile through it but I know my soulmate is hurting somewhere. Then, I'm with you and I don't feel that pain anymore. Do I help you? Even a little.”

“You make me happier, you do. Everything about you...then, I'm reminded of all those feelings we taught about. How i should feel this around my soulmate and it traps me in this endless circle. Like those pennies, that spin in the dome, over and over with nothing but darkness to meet them.”

“Yuuri,” Victor whispered, leaning over to kiss his forehead. “How about you tell me about him? Maybe talking about it would help? Like, what made you fall in love with him?”

Yuuri shook his head, staring at the floor. “The first time I remember thinking I might love him was around 11 or maybe 12? I don't remember exactly. What I do remember is telling him I was Japanese, and I was so worried he’d never want to meet me because of it.”

“The distance, right? You mentioned he was Russian, like me.”

“Yeah, his accent is a lot thicker than yours though, and--”

“Actually, this isn't my natural accent. My accent was very thick when I first came over here. Sorry, not about me right now. Continue,” amended Victor.

“It’s really dumb, but I drew flags to signify our countries. It was the first time I saw our countries side-by-side like that. And he--”

“Looked up how to write Japan in kanji?”

Yuuri’s eyes widen, turning slowly to look at Victor. How did he know that? Was there a possibility that all this time? No. It was impossible. He would have recognized Victor’s voice, wouldn't he?

“This whole time, you and I--”

“Ah!! Found you!” the director shouted, entering the studio. “I am so sorry, Victor, we're having to change our filming schedule a bit. We forgot that Jon is doing Good Morning America tomorrow. So we're going to go ahead and film a couple of your scenes today and we'll still do yours and Hannah’s tomorrow and we'll film with Yuuri and Jon the next day. So, I need you in wardrobe ASAP.”

“Yeah, I'll be there in a moment,” Victor told him but their director was not having not. Rushing over to bodily usher Victor out of the studio. 

“Now, now, we have a movie to shoot and a schedule to keep.”

“Later! Yuuri! I want to finish this talk,” Victor shouted, as their boss thrust him out, slamming the door behind him.

For one brief second, Yuuri felt a balloon of hope begin to inflate inside his chest. There was no way. There was just no way.

 

*-*-*-*

“Yuuri! Can you come over here, please?”

Yuuri slid across the ice, stopping in front of his coach in manager, reaching out for the towel offered to him. He dabbed at his face in neck, dying for the shower that would be waiting for him once he got back home. It had been a long practice, grueling even, and he was positive he’d have more than one bruise to show for it. But he was working long, hard hours to pull a quad triple before his next outing. There was hope for him to make the Olympic team for 2018, if he could just find confidence in himself. “What is it, Coach?”

Another man approached them--adjusting glasses similar to Yuuri’s own--while looking at a photo. “He’s perfect. You’re about 5’7”, aren’t you?”

“He’s 5’8”,” his coach, Celestino, piped in, beaming with pride.

“Are you familiar with Jon Moriyuki,” the glasses wearing man asked. Yuuri had to think for a moment, the name sounded familiar, but he was sure they weren’t an actor back home. Maybe he had seen the name somewhere here in the states? He just couldn’t place it. “He’s an actor, about your age, actually. He did soap operas till recently.”

“Oh! The hospital show, right? My host mother watches it,” Yuuri remembered, smiling brightly. 

“Yes. He’s a rising new star in movies, and we’ve just cast him for a role opposite Victor Nikiforov and Hannah Monroe for our big winter romance. We’re looking to hit big with Valentine’s numbers,” the man explained.

Yuuri’s eyes widened, his skate almost sliding beneath him in shock from just hearing the name. “Did you say Victor Nikiforov?”

The man laughed, pushing up his glasses. “Familiar with him, huh? Well, he is quite popular. We think it’s the accent.”

“I’m a fan,” Yuuri admitted, chuckling. It was one of the first things he and his host sister had bonded over. Yuuri had brought a number of Victor’s poster’s with him, to remind him of his room back home. It was by coincidence that his host sister happened to love Victor as well, and offered to share everything she knew from her connections through Victor’s US based fan club. 

“Here’s the deal, the movie we’re shooting is an ice skating romance. Two male skaters torn between their careers and the love of a woman. Anyways, we need stunt doubles, or in this case, skate doubles for Victor and Jon. Your name came up from a youtube video from a couple years ago, you did a routine to Victor’s Disney movie?”

Yuuri flushed bright red, tapping his toe pick against the ice. “Yeah.”

“Your image matches Jon’s pretty close, so we’d like to offer you an audition to skate for us in Salt Lake, see how you work next to Jon. It’s a paying gig, of course.”

“And great publicity for the rink,” Celestino pitched in, reaching over to nudge Yuuri playfully.

“And you get to meet Victor Nikiforov,” the glasses man added.

In all honesty, Yuuri had needed no more convincing after hearing Victor’s name the first time.

*-*-*-*

Yuuri paced back in forth in his hotel room, pen poised over his arm. Something as telling him to test this feeling that he had. See if Victor was his soulmate. Victor had known about the kanji that his soulmate had sent. Victor admitted that his accent was thicker than what he normally used. Maybe that was Victor’s natural accent on the phone. It still hurt when he thought of that voice telling him he loved someone else, but then, Victor had told Yuuri that he had broken it off with his own mate for Yuuri. Coincidentally, close to the time Yuuri had received the news from his mate. He had been so absorbed in his own sorrow that he hadn’t made the connection.

If Victor was his mate, then everything connected like pieces of one large convoluted puzzle. Why he felt so relaxed around him. Why he felt little rays of sunshine break through the clouds of his depression. Why Yuuri had said ‘I love you’ during sex, though he hadn’t intended to. All of it made sense. It all added up that he had sex with his mate, solidifying their bond, and neither one had even known it. The only thing left hanging in limbo was why Victor didn’t feel the pain Yuuri felt. Yuuri felt death coming for him, and Victor seemed completely unaffected.

He frowned, placing the pen to his arm, writing out a hasty message before he lost nerve. Bring me a stuffed bear.

He let it sit for a full half hour before running to the bathroom, soaping up his arm, washing away the writing. He toweled his arm, running to his bed, jumping under his cocoon for warmth. There was no chance in the world that Victor Nikiforov was his soulmate. He was such an idiot.

*

“Yuuri, I’m back! Sorry it took so long, we ran a bit late,” Victor said, entering Yuuri’s hotel room. Yuuri snuggled into his blankets, hugging his pillow tighter. “Why is it dark in here again?”

“No reason,” Yuuri mumbled, hiding from the light stinging his eyes. His anxiety had come crawling back, like a slug scooting upon a wooden table, leaving a trail of doubt behind him. As each hour ticked by, Yuuri became more and more assured that Victor wasn’t his soulmate. That fate was playing a cruel trick on him, as it seemed to enjoying doing as of late.

“I got you something,” Victor hummed, coming to sit on the bed next to Yuuri, the mattress dipping with his weight. “I actually got Hannah’s help on where to go,” he continued, putting down the white box in front of Yuuri’s vision. Yuuri blinked, once and then twice, reaching back for his glasses.

Victor handed him the frames, Yuuri quickly shoving them into place to look at the white and blue box. A box that oddly resembled a house, complete with windows, and decorative shrubbery for coloring. “Build-a-bear?”

“Yeah. She told me they’re really popular in malls here.”

“You bought me a bear?” he awed, opening the box to pull out the glistening white teddy bear covered in small blue snowflakes. “Snowflakes.” His finger trailed over each one, marveling over the pattern, his eyes refusing to meet Victor’s.

“One year around my birthday I started doodling snowflakes on my arm. I wanted you to tell me happy birthday, but I didn’t know how to tell you it was my birthday, so I kept drawing. White and blue snowflakes, like the bear.”

He used the bear as cover to hide his face as tears ran down his face. He had always cried to easily.

“Yuuri, had I known I never would have said what I did to you. It’s almost poetic that I tell my soulmate that I’m in love with my soulmate, isn’t it? Or that my soulmate tells me he had sex with someone else, who turns out to be me.”

Yuuri couldn’t stop the laugh that beat through his sobs, rubbing his nose into the brand new stuffed bear. Victor moved closer, stroking Yuuri’s hair, encouraging the younger man to look up at him. “Mishka, look at me.”

He hugged Victor tightly, relishing in the warmth of his mate. His mate. Victor Nikiforov was his mate. His mate who had hurt him, but also repaired him. His mate who fate decided to play a cruel game of chess with. “It’s been you, all this time?”

“Since the day you drew that poodle. I drew a pink bow on it, remember?”

“Yeah.”

“And, you know what, Yuuri? Tonight, I’m going to make love to you, and tomorrow, you and I are going to sneak away and we’re going to get married at the courthouse. I’m not being separated from you again, understood?”

“Married?! Tomorrow?! But I have work..you have work..and we just..and I just...we..”

“Yuuri!” Victor exclaimed, pulling Yuuri to his chest, after Yuuri had tried to escape his hold. Couldn’t Victor see it was to much too fast? They’d only known each other for-- “18 years, Yuuri. We’ve waited for each other for 18 years, and to fall for each other without knowing? To put ourselves in this situation. I should have told you two or three years ago. We should have gotten married. All those things I dreamed for us, I still want them. I want them with you. My Yuuri first, my soulmate second.”

“This is so stupid,” Yuuri laughed, either out of relief or mania was beyond his realm of thought. “You dumped me for me. And I confessed to have sex with you to you.”

“We’ve established this.”

“This is insanity. You’re Victor Nikiforov. You don’t want to marry me.”

Victor scoffed. “I’ve wanted to marry you since day 1, when I was nine years old. We were going to get married in Moscow. There was going to be tulips, it’d be winter, and I imagined a young girl back then, dressed all in white, blending in with the snow like an angel. Then when I found out you were Japanese, and male, I imagined you in a white wedding kimono. I even researched wedding kimonos to picture you in.”

“You did?”

“Yes. One was white and had this gold pattern on it, and all I could think about was how it had to many layers for the afterparty. Didn’t you ever think about marrying me?” inquired Victor.

“A couple times, but, I was so scared we’d never meet and then I met you. I developed feelings for you. I thought I was a whore because I--”

“Yuuri, we’re going in circles. I’m your soulmate, and you’re mine, and we love each other, don’t we?” Victor questioned, taking Yuuri’s hand into his own, squeezing it gently. “I love you.”

Yuuri gasped, his heart practically jumping right out of his chest. If he were a cartoon character, his heart would be against the wall, pounding in large yoyo like moves. “I love you too.”

“So, Katsuki Yuuri, will you marry me?”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed it. I've been in quite the angst mood lately, so this came out a bit heavier than i had originally intended.
> 
> There's going to be a part 2, which will be Victor's POV. Which will hopefully be far more light-hearted and playful, leading up more to how their relationship came to be, and where it goes from here. So stay tuned for that. Thank you, for reading!


End file.
